


Swimming Lessons

by peccadilloes



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, S3e1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-25 09:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19743085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peccadilloes/pseuds/peccadilloes
Summary: Karen meets Billy at the motel.





	Swimming Lessons

In the end, Karen Wheeler decided to leave her wedding ring on. After all, Billy wanted Mrs. Wheeler exactly as she was. Or that's what she told herself. She'd tried this kind of thing once or twice before, only to be let down by lack of chemistry and poor sexual performance. She didn't discuss these things with her husband. "As long as it doesn't affect our family, what difference does it make?" He'd said a little too quickly when she first brought it up. This was before Holly. Afterward he'd offered unprompted, "My position hasn't changed." _Clearly_ , she thought now, stepping into her car. The man hadn't been between her legs since then.

When she got to the motel, Billy was waiting in the parking lot. Leaning against his Camaro like some confident young stud. Karen shook her head and went to meet him.

"Got us a room," Billy said. He held up the key.

"All those private swim lessons?" Karen said with a little more ice in her voice than she'd intended.

Billy scoffed. "I only have eyes for you, Mrs. Wheeler."

The room was around back, facing the pool. Maybe, Karen thought, this was a mistake. Billy closed the door behind them. KY and condoms on the bedside, covers pulled down, rock music on the radio.

"Those other moms--" Billy started.

Karen turned to face him. She unbuttoned her dress, revealing her lingerie.

"You look like a Penthouse model."

Karen felt her face scrunch. She almost laughed. There was a heat in her belly. He wouldn't go on like this. Or, her husband wouldn't. But Billy--"The way you looked when you got out of the pool." He licked his lips and looked down her body, then searched her face. He seemed to Karen to be almost vulnerable. Vulnerable and hungry.

Karen felt her posture change. Her shoulders rolled back and her weight shifted to one hip. Her knee bent a little bit. When she inhaled, Karen brought her hand to waist, elbow out. Here she was again, finally, after all these years. Back in her power. "You have sex with a lot of girls your age, Billy?" Where were these words coming from.

"Yeah, but--"

Karen stepped closer to him, so there was very little space between them at all. He smelled like cigarettes. She dropped her voice. "So what makes you think you have something to teach me--" She bit her lip, remembering for the words he'd used earlier at the pool. It was hot. She was, maybe, starting to sweat. "--advanced technique?"

Billy's breathing had gone rhythmic. "Mrs. Wheeler," he said.

In her mind, Karen quickly raced through all the horrible and mildly insulting things Billy could possibly be about to say. Settled on when was the last time you even had an orgasm with a man? But her hand was still on her hip, shoulders back. She tossed her hair. A new song came on.

"Mrs. Wheeler, I want you to lay back on that bed and spread your legs so I can show you what I can do with my tongue," he swallowed, "and my fingers."

Karen felt herself smile. Billy took his shirt of and dropped it on the floor. On the bed, he pushed her chemise up to her hips, put his hands on her thighs, and inhaled. She felt his hot breath on her panties. And then it was, what, a series of licks, his fingers pulling her panties aside. "You taste so good, Mrs. Wheeler." Him pulling back to stick his fingers in his mouth and then sliding one into her before resuming whatever it was Billy was doing with his tongue on her clit. Karen put her left hand on the back of Billy's head. If she looked, she could see the ring on her finger. She moaned. Billy pulled her panties down, off, tossed them aside. He doubled down on his efforts, moaning _mmm._ This felt good, delicious, heavenly. Building toward. Karen squeezed her breast through her chemise. She opened her legs wider, pressed up. It was too much. It wasn't enough.

"Billy," she said, finally. She reached for a condom and the KY, handed them to him. "Take off your pants and get on your back."

Billy pulled back and sat up. He wiped his mouth on his arm and licked his lips. He stood up and unzipped his jeans. Karen rubbed her clit and slipped her fingers into herself. Billy's cock wasn't too big, too small, too thick, too think. It was reddish, with hints of purple, and it suited him. His blonde bush. Billy squeezed a drop of lube in the condom and it rolled it down over the head to the base him. He poured some lube over the condom and gave himself a few tugs. His eyes were on her.

She scooted over on the bed to make room for him.

Billy laid down on his back. The whole sexiness of being in her lingerie with her shoes on while he was naked thrilled her. But she knew Billy would want to see her body. She kicked off her shoes and climbed on top of him. Dropped her weight so she could feel his cock rubbing against her. She brought her face close to his. "Help me take this off," she said. Billy unfastened the little red chemise and pulled it over her head. "One of your skills," she said. He pushed up and moaned. This felt good. Karen rocked her hips and took a deep breath, refocusing on the sensation. The wetness. She lifted her hips, and Billy guided his cock into her. She signed. He groaned. Then she started moving.

In her romance novels, it was often the women on the bottom being ravished with a few pumps of the hips. Since the 70s, the content had changed some--glamour and hair spray overtaking the zipless fuck--but what was it _she_ wanted out of this. Billy had ventured to suck on, kiss her shoulder. He touched her back, pinched her nipples, palmed her butt. He angled his hips up so her clit got the friction from his pelvis. Karen thought about her hair and what it would look like afterward--like a badge of honor the other moms, wives got at home --but maybe not. She was on her hands and knees riding a Camaro-driving bad boy lifeguard who wanted her, who'd wanted her for who knows how long. She looked at his face. It was open.

The women in those novels always just seemed to lay there or wrap their legs and arms around. Screw them. Screw everyone, Karen thought. She planted her hands firmly on either side of Billy and rolled her hips faster, rocked faster, covering more distance. She felt everything: the head of Billy's cock, his shaft she gripped with her muscles, his pelvis as her clit rolled over it. They were sweating, panting, moaning. The bed rocking. Billy tugging her nipples, gripping her back. Whimpering. Sweat beading on his upper lip. Karen closed her eyes, opened her mouth, listened to the high pink sounds coming out of her. Keep going, she told herself. Keep going. She rode Billy until everything was pink, over the crest. Moaning. Contractions cascading down out of her. Karen opened her eyes. Billy's head tilted back, his mouth in a little O, eyes half-open, watching her. He made a few quick grunting thrusts, reaching up.

*

At the pool the next day, at the switch of the guard. The women around her primped frantically, but Karen just leaned back on her lounger. Bent her knee up as Billy walked by. "Looking good, Mrs. Wheeler." She winked.


End file.
